


Hank Anderson Drabbles

by DarthSuki



Series: Detroit: Become Drabbles [1]
Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Comfort, Dirty Talk, Drabble Collection, F/M, Face-Fucking, M/M, Other, Phone Sex, tags added as needed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-18
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-12 06:28:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15333843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarthSuki/pseuds/DarthSuki
Summary: A collection of drabbles featuring Hank Anderson and the reader, with everything being NSFW and gender/sex-neutral unless otherwise specified.





	1. Dirty Talk

**Author's Note:**

> These drabbles were written with the amazing support of the followers on my Detroit: Become Human writing blog. If you would like to request stuff, toss ideas at me or whatnot, [you can check out the blog here!](https://detroitbecomehumanwritings.tumblr.com/)

>   **Anonymous:** I need more NSFW for Hank with that sweet dirty talk because he just needs more love

One arm around your waist, the other pressed into the bed to keep his body from pressing down uncomfortably against yours, Hank hovered just over you. You could hear his deep breathing, his low grunts, but the most important sound that fills your ears were his words as they rumbled from his lips.

“Y’feel so good, baby,” Hank’s voice was barely loud enough over the hard, wet sounds that seemed to shamelessly echo in the bedroom with every thrust. “Got plenty of stamina left to fuck you good, don’t I?” 

You didn’t really have much thought to answer; whatever focus you still clung to was wrapped around the pleasure filling your body, your hands clutching at the sheets and face almost smothered into the pillows beneath you. All you could offer was a drawn moan in response, feeling how Hank’s cock seemed to open you up with every hard thrust forward–the bed was starting to shake, the headboard hitting the wall so rhythmically that the sound itself would have made you feel hot with embarrassment if you weren’t already feeling like lava.

“So fuckin’ good, feel so good,” Hank cooed. “Wonder how long I could keep going–still coherent?”

Another drawn moan, nearly a sob from the pillows. Every movement seemed so precise, forcing you closer and closer to climax with every moment.

“Pleasepleaseplease.” It was barely understandable words, but one didn’t have to hear it perfectly to know you were at your wits end and strung-out with euphoria and need.

You almost thought you were going to orgasm when the man slowed, then stopped, letting it slip away into the back of your mind. It was horrible and frustrating, but wonderful all the same–especially when the stillness of your bodies let you feel Hank’s lips press to the back of your neck.

“I promised to fuck you so good you’d forget how to speak,” The man’s voice was low, as dangerous as it was affectionate. “Looks like I still need to work on this.”

And then he started moving, slow and steady, forcing your pleasure to build up far too slowly than what you wanted. It wasn’t a surprise at all–it was the third time he edged you that night, and it seemed he was gearing for a fourth.


	2. Facefucking

> **Anonymous:** Hank facefucking Drabble? If you feel up to it!! Thank you for your hard work!!!

His hands delve into your hair, grip tight and holding you close. Just another inch, feeling it slide against your tongue and just a bit farther down your throat. It takes a second to get used to it, to stifle down the instinctual desire to choke, but Hank give you the time you need–the mercy will be shortlived once he’s able to fuck your mouth as hard as he wants to.

“That’s good, baby,” The old man coos above you, pressing your head closer still–you’ve almost swallowed him down completely. “So good, feel fuckin’ fantastic.”

Your thoughts are largely in a haze, trying to pick one moment from the next while focusing on opening your jaws wide and teeth shielded by your lips. Your hands gently grip Hank’s pants, fingers curled into the thick fabric of his jeans, waiting for the moment that he finally let loose and used your mouth for his pleasure. It makes your heart hammer against your chest, feeling his fingertips pressed to your scalp.

And then, with a gruff mumble of words, Hank begins to fuck your mouth.

The mercy he held before is gone, replaced by fervent need and hot passion. You had enough time to get used to the length and thickness of his cock–you do your best to pleasure him as he thrusts, tongue pressed against the underside of the throbbing shape, cheeks hollowed as best you could muster. 

“Takin’ my cock so well,” Hank murmurs, his voice almost undecipherable underneath the gravel and growl. “It’s almost like you were made for being on your knees and swallowing me down.”

Tears welled in the corners of your eyes as his rhythm settled into something hard and deep, feeling as though he was almost hitting the back of your throat each time. It was uncomfortable, but it was wonderful at the same time–the haze of thoughts mixed with your pleasure at hearing Hank moan, hearing him praise you, feeling his cock against your tongue and lips. 

It was a weird sort of satisfaction, but the cold tile of the kitchen floor could have been a bit more comfortable.

Though  _you_  were the one who instigated the whole thing–it didn’t take all that much convincing for Hank to let you on your knees in front of him and open up the front of his jeans. The man had barely been able to sputter out an answer before you had his cock in your mouth, eyes half-lidded and gazing up at him needily.

Still, it’s a good way to spend a Saturday afternoon.


	3. Nightmare Comfort (SFW)

> **Anonymous:**  could you do something with hank comforting a s/o after a really traumatic nightmare? sorry if it doesn't suit the blog theme i've just had an awful week..

You woke up in a cold sweat. Everything felt overwhelming, your head ached, the blankets clung to your skin and–god–it felt horrible. The nightmare chased you into consciousness, the last vestiges of it’s terror making you feel a wave of nausea overtake your thoughts.

God, you wanted to throw up.

Confusion or too-sharp clarity, you weren’t sure which was worse at the moment. The room was dark, pitch black in the night, and it wasn’t clear what time it was; it could have been midnight or four in the morning, but none of it mattered when your heart was still hammering heard from the nightmare that awoke you to begin with.

You didn’t get the opportunity to clamber out of bed before you felt a hand on your shoulder. It’s weight was warm and firm, keeping you still long enough so you could turn and catch the concerned but exhausted expression of Hank half sitting-up beside you on the bed.

“Hey,” His voice sounded gentle and low, even as sleep tinged the edges of his words. “Everything okay?”

You debate not telling him for a few moments. It would be too easy to brush it off and tell him to go back to sleep, to scuttle off with yourself and your thoughts to the bathroom to cry or shower or–or something.

But you don’t, you shake your head and feel the man’s careful eyes on you as you answer with a quiet,

“I had another nightmare.”

That was all it took for Hank to move, to pull you against his chest and wrap his arms around your body. It was a little smothering, a little hard to get in a full breath when your face was pressed against his chest, but physical comfort was the last thing you were concerned about at that point. Hank felt warm and comforting and he held you just right, arms tight around your body to give you the anchoring pressure that was needed to keep your thoughts firmly in the moment.

“Everything’s alright,” Hank whispered, his lips pressed to your head. “It was just a nightmare baby, you’re awake now–everything is okay.” He cooed gently, motions slow as his hands began to stroke up and down your arms to help slow your own half-sobbing breaths. “I’m right here, nobody’s gonna hurt you.”

His voice simmered into nonsensical babble, but it was enough to calm you, to sooth your frayed thoughts into some semblance of peace. As consciousness filled your head, the last remnants of the night terror, or at least the most of the details, started to fade from memory.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Hank asked after an unknown number of minutes, his hands still stroking over your arms.

You shook your head rather than speak at first, half-nuzzling into his chest.

“Not really.” 

Hank didn’t push the topic, but gently encouraged you to lay back down on the bed. The two of you settled together, his arms still around you, your head laying upon his chest and listening to his breathing and heartbeat.

The man spoke idly for a few minutes, topic ranging from work to domestic chores he’d been working on around the house the last few days. It was nothing important, and it was obvious why–he simply wanted to distract you. Get your thoughts off of everything, at least enough so you could fall back asleep and the two of you could worry about it all in the morning.

It took some time, some kisses and some gentle murmuring, but you did eventually fall back asleep. Instead of the nightmare, it was Hank gently holding onto you, making you feel protected and warm as you fell back into a gentle slumber.


	4. Chapter 4

>   **Anonymous:** I would really love some hank x reader phonesex if you don't mind it, thank you. Your writing is amazing and I am really impressed with the quan- and quality of your uploads!

He couldn’t see you, he couldn’t feel you, but by god Hank could  _hear_  you and that was damn good enough to him for the moment. With one hand holding the phone and the other on his dick, he needed nothing more than the sweet sound of your voice to get him going.

“Oh baby,” He moaned, trying to keep some restraint on the pace of his hand and the grip of his fingers around himself–he didn’t want to finish too quickly, not when he was already knee-deep in the depravity of it all. “Where are you at? Did you get all set up in the bedroom or were you so eager that’cha called me somewhere else?”

He was so horny he actually pulled his car over into an empty parking lot, hidden away behind some brick wall, and damn if he wasn’t going to enjoy an orgasm; after working overtime for the last two weeks and being away from you because of it, he fucking needed the moment, needed to hear you panting in his ear and begging him in that sweet voice of yours.

It was you that had called him, after all–he was simply being safe, having pulled off the road.

“N-No,” came your sweet whisper, your gentle voice filled to the brim with hot need. “I’m…I’m in the living room.”

That piqued Hank’s attention enough that he chuckled, carrying on the conversation when your words broke up in a small groan of pleasure. He could almost hear your body shifting, moving against your own hand as you chased after your own pleasure.

“Living room?” Hank growled curiously, trying not to lose focus on his words nor his pleasure as he continued the pace over his dick. “What kinda things were you thinking about in there? Watching a dirty flick or something on the television?”

You could hear the teasing in his voice, the thirst settled just behind it. 

“I thought of you,” was all that could come from your lips at first. Hank could hear the gentle tell-tale creak of the old couch as you shifted, only cementing your lament of not being in the bedroom when you called him. “The first time we–” you let out a sobbing moan, unable to stifle it with a hand when both of them were otherwise busy. “–when you fucked me on the couch and said all those things.”

Hank sucked in a breath as he remembered, letting his memory flicker back to the beautiful, heated moments of pleasure between the two of you. It was the first time you and him fucked and god, did you two fuck. Over the arm, on the couch, the floor in front of the couch–it had been the first time in a long time that Hank had been able to be with someone and god did he manage to last long enough to sate both of your needs.

That said, the reminder only spurred him on, made him grip his aching dick harder and clench his jaw tight in barely-restrained pleasure.

“What kinda things baby?” Hank’s voice was barely understandable through the thick layer of husk and gravel. “C’mon, tell me what I said you loved so much.”

He was getting close, hoped you were too.

“You said–” Hank heard you gasp, let out a squeak of a moan and another creak of the couch. “You said how good I felt, how won-wonderful I was and–” Another sob spilled from your lips, leaving you barely able to form thoughts, let alone coherent sentences. Hank took it over from there, twisting his grip on every upstroke that left him on the precipice of pleasure, the edge of addicting heat and perfection.

“Love you so much,” He growled into the phone. “I wish I was home right now so I could fuck you, baby, I’d fuck you so good, take such good care of you–you wouldn’t have to  do a thing. Spoil you like you deserve, you’re so perfect–” 

He couldn’t hold back orgasm anymore after that, his mind filling with the thought of you splayed out on the bed, face flushed with heat and gazing at him with your beautiful eyes. He choked out a groan as he felt himself cum, leaving a mess of his shirt and god, fuck, you still needed to orgasm.

Hank didn’t miss a beat as he took a breath and kept going, deciding to figure out his own situation later.

“Close baby?” He asked, voice clearer now, focused entirely on you–the sound of his fondness made you shiver.

“Uh-huh,” Is all you can muster, arching your back and desperately seeking the edge.

“Good, perfect–because when I come home I’m going to fuck you over that couch again, just like the first time. I’m gonna bend you over the arm and open you up all nice and sweet, make you take every inch of me so I can hear how pretty you sound when you cum.”

It was like he was smothering you with his voice, deep and needy, and it gave you the last little push you needed to crest over into the sea of pleasure. Orgasm swept through you like a hot wave, leaving you shaking, hips stuttering against your hand and your voice moaning out Hank’s name in near-breathless abandon.

“Come home soon,” is all you can remember saying when it was all said and done, when the afterglow was thick and heavy in your thoughts. Hank wouldn’t be able to get home for a few hours more, but you’d wait for him. 

A smile worked over your lips, Hank could hear it in your words as you whispered, fondly, “I love you, drive safe.”


End file.
